


Red Sun

by LamiasLuck



Series: In Another Life (AUs) [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Magic, Gen, Host is a creepy guy, Minor Character Death, Occult, Rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiasLuck/pseuds/LamiasLuck
Summary: Beware of the forest that beckons innocent souls during nightfall. Those who enter, never make it back. The strongest, the most kind, the most determined. All succumb to the horrors trapped within the cursed forest.Beware of the man that got addicted to power. The forbidden words that fall from his lips sound like honey but strike with the power of a bullet. With the power of the red sun, he entrances those who are willing to listen. May those who are unfortunate enough to get caught in his web be blessed with a swift, and painless death.Beware of the Host.
Series: In Another Life (AUs) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470359
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Red Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by a song by Dreamcatcher also called Red Sun!

Beware of the forest that beckons innocent souls during nightfall. Those who enter, never make it back. The strongest, the most kind, the most determined. All succumb to the horrors trapped within the cursed forest. 

Beware of the man that got addicted to power. The forbidden words that fall from his lips sound like honey but strike with the power of a bullet. With the power of the red sun, he entrances those who are willing to listen. May those who are unfortunate enough to get caught in his web be blessed with a swift, and painless death. 

_ Beware of the Host. _

“The scene takes place in the cabin.” It’s an old and run-down place. However, it has everything the Host needs. The wooden floorboards creak beneath his feet as he paces. Books filled with disgraced spells and relics are spread out across the floor and decorate the various bookshelves crowding the small cabin. Candles are placed meticulously around, creating dim lighting for the otherwise dark room. They are perfectly illuminating the reason for this elaborate setup.

“The sacrifice struggles in vain against his binds.” He is an average looking guy. The type of person that would never expect to wind up in a situation like this. Dark brown hair, sickly pale skin, and light blue eyes that can hide all the fear in the world. He lies on the floor, fresh tears streaming across his face and making his vision blurry. Desperate pleads fall upon deaf ears, as the Host can only hear his gods muttering sweet poems to him. 

“Red sun… red sun…” The Host’s voice is deep and smooth in tone, repeating its siren’s call. A trap within the night. As he sings his alluring venom, the sacrifice can’t help but hum along. His words wrap around the mind, creating the web that finally catches the prey. He sings stories that are meant to be forgotten. His worshipped gods are disgraced for a reason. The sin plagues his mind, as well as decorate his skin in twisted markings. Each cursed tattoo has its own story, and he is a mere vessel for each one. As are his sacrifices. 

Every ritual is different. As the corrupted heart grows, the maze keeps changing. The gods want something different each time. Those markings twitch and burn against his skin, telling him what to do. His body moves on its own, fingertips brushing against the plethora of spell books. He stops as soon as the red sun tells him to. A twisted smile stretches across his face as he picks up an old novel. It’s one he has written himself, most of them are.

The sacrifice always seems confused at this point. It must be the laugh. It always starts off as a small, nearly unhearable giggle. The Host’s mind gets swarmed with encouragement from his gods. His  _ masters.  _ By the time they’re screaming at him, he’s too far gone in his breathless cackling fit.

**_Do it. Do it. Do it._ **

The coarse parchment feels like the finest silk to the Host. His finger glides across the words. Unfaltering narrations mix in with uncontrollable giggles as he feels a power course through him. **_It’s time._ **

“Finally… finally,” he mutters as he falls to his knees. There’s a slight sway to his body as he drowns in the sensation of it all. Blood streams through his loosening bandages, flowing down his face and making him taste it as he keeps shining his creepy smile. As this power pulses throughout the room, objects start lifting off the ground and floating around them. The candles, the books, even the Host’s coat is lifting at the hems.

The markings are  _ burning.  _ “Red sun… red sun…” Yet, the Host remains diligent and continues his ritual. All he can do is twitch weakly against the force, making him pant softly as the gods watch down upon him. The bandages unstick from his skin and lift from his face. Unfocused, golden eyes keep crying tears of crimson. His pupils are morphed into mere signs, markings of the red sun. He gladly gave up his sight to  _ see  _ more. All the power he wants. 

Cursed magic wraps around the Host like a hug. Oddly comforting within its cold grasp, but nothing more than a grim reminder to the sacrifice. Slowly, he lifts his arm and twirls his index finger. The small action creates a ripple effect. It’s silent for a moment, eerily so. There’s no such thing as peace in this twisted maze.

Something grabs the sacrifice, but the Host is kneeling far away from him. This hand, if he can even call it that, grabs his tied arms with an iron grip and digs into his flesh. Its claws easily rip through his skin and pull him upwards. The hands have no body controlling them, only acting as mere puppets for the Host to control. They’re an abnormal grey colour, nothing but skin and bones twitching around in a crude mockery of fluid motion. Another hand sprouts from the floor and grabs at the sacrifice. Then, another one, and another one, and even more. Once the sacrifice gets a good look at these things, he wants to scream. It’s a shame that the hands cover his mouth.

“I want to laugh when I see you struggle.” Of course he does. As his narrations describe the pitiful scene, he fails to stifle his amused chuckles. Demonic hands force the sacrifice to his knees. The harsh gesture is conducted effortlessly with a simple move of the Host’s hands. He mutters a forgotten tongue, speaking it as if it were poetry. The candles blow out in unison, but thankfully, there’s something to take its place. There’s a glow dimly emitting from the floorboards. It creates a circle around the sacrifice, along with some strange symbols only the Host recognizes.

“Red sun… red sun…” He drops his hands to his sides, but the arms holding the sacrifice stay in place. “Your host brings a gift for your grace.” The sacrifice struggles in vain as soon as he hears that. The Host doesn’t do much except smile at the other. His mind is flooded with voices of encouragement. **_They’re happy with him._**

“Aren’t you lucky?” The clawed hands dig deeper into the sacrifice. Blood wells up in the swallow wounds as more and more hands wrap around him. The circle glows brighter and engulfs the cabin in a haunting red glow. It’s all pulling the sacrifice further down into its mess of limbs. There’s a clear happiness in the Host’s voice as he beams with pride over his work.  **_Finally._ ** “The red sun has accepted you.”

All the struggling in the world can’t help the sacrifice from his fate. Hands keep pulling him down, unbothered by the floor in its way. The cabin faintly glows with how intense the circle beams red. Good thing the Host can’t see. Though, not like he can focus on much, as he’s fully swarmed within his own mind. He faintly registers the crunching of bones from the sacrifice struggling in his losing battle. 

“Why struggle against such a privilege?” **_He doesn’t understand._**

The blood streaming down the Host’s face burns against his skin. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think burn marks are being painted down to his neck. Each laboured breath comes out in a harsh rasp. He grits his teeth and bares with the pain. He can’t decipher what his gods are shouting at him. Is the sacrifice already taken away? He can’t exactly tell. The muffled screaming and breaking are easily drowned out by a higher power. Everything is too loud. His gods, are they satisfied? Disappointed? Hungry? 

**_They’re so proud of the Host._ **

The same crude mockery of hands capable of tearing into flesh gently trace along the Host’s jawline. Clawed nails dip into the blood like a quill waiting to write with ink. He closes his eyes and leans into the cold touch. With the last bit of strength, he gives a shaky smile and a breathless laugh. He falls back and passes out against the uncomfortable wood, but he might as well be on the softest bed imaginable. Everything drops around him in a unison thud. It’s finally quiet. The sacrifice is long gone, taken away, and consumed by the red sun. As the supernatural glows fades away, the Host lays peacefully by himself. He drifts away listening to the lullaby he signed his soul away too many years ago.

Red sun, red sun… repeating in the endless night trapping the forest.


	2. "Comforting" Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Host is always a loyal follower. So loyal, in fact, that his gods deem it fit to reward him. But what do you give someone that already has everything he wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't based off a song lol  
> Important chapters will be tho! This is a drabble I wrote cause I love this Host lol

“Red sun... red sun...”

Host reaches up to touch his new creation. His fingertips become stained in the sticky visceral of the monster’s face. He can feel the laboured, guttural breaths against his face. What was once a man, now stands hunched over as a creation made by the darkness.

**_Beautiful._ **

Host shivers and listens. The blueprint he uses; it is a gift. He only hopes that he did everything correctly. His bandages have long since sunken down his face as they got heavy with blood, now dripping in steady streams from his eyes. Golden, unfocused eyes stare up at the abomination. The dull pain can’t compare to the immense pride that doing something like this always brings.

The creature towers over his kneeling form. Its limbs and body are stretched and torn; bones dislocated into an unnatural position. The eyes are rolled back and sunken against its deathly pale skin. Its mouth is agape in a permanent scream. Right in Host’s face. The spell put on its mind makes it stand perfectly still in a daze.

**_Perfect in every aspect._ **

Perhaps this will be another servant for them. Host doesn’t mind how this is used. As long as they’re happy. His blind eyes can’t see its beauty exactly, but he trusts that his hands made it perfectly. If he’s guided by his gods, then everything will be fine. 

The ritual circle glows around them. It feels warm against Host’s skin, bringing a smile to his face. Outstretched hands shoot up from the ground; all clawing at the floor boards and at the monster. It lets out a guttural roar as it’s soon overwhelmed by the hands and thrown to the ground. Even in such a corrupted state, the monster finds the mind to fight back against the force pulling it. 

Host wonders if that hurts, being clawed and dragged under to another world. Though, the moment of pain will be worth it for servitude to them. The hands are nice enough to protect him from wildly flailing limbs.

It’s soon silent again. The monster is gone, only leaving Host with those voices. “Did I do good...?” He asks quietly. The demonic hands are still around, occasionally poking at him with rough caresses.

**_Yes, always the perfect servant._ **

A small laugh leaves him. “Thank you.”

**_What would you like for your devotion?_ **

Host tilts his head at the question, taking him off guard. “A reward?” How rare that he gets a gift for his service. As being a servant in the first place is all the reward he needs.

**_Reward. Reward. Reward._ **

His breathing hitches as the word repeats in his head. Well, he can’t deny his gods what they want, but there’s nothing material he necessarily needs. He holds his head and tries to think.

New spell book? No, he has plenty he still needs to study. Another sacrifice? No, he’s growing tired after this one. Riches? No, he didn’t need stuff like that. What he needs is some rest. He's never one to ask for a lot. Not after he got all the power he can ever desire. 

It takes a bit, but he eventually straightens up and grasps at a demon hand twitching in front of him. “Can I have a hug?” He asks quietly. The hands still in unison, almost in a questioning manner. He didn’t stutter, though. That’s his request.

The hand he grasps twitches, and soon, the others do too. They go to wrap around Host with their unnaturally long arms. Nothing but bone and grey skin, but they try their best.

If anyone else stumbles upon the cabin, it will look like Host is being restrained by a hellish nightmare. He’s nearly entirely covered by the plethora of arms. Only his head is peeking out of the mess. Far too long, claw-like nails lightly scratch along his body in a “comforting” motion. Something only he will find nice.

“Thank you...” he hums contently and nuzzles into a hand brushing away the blood from his face. One even moves up to scratch at his scalp, making him lean towards the touch. Not that he can really move all that much. The hands are holding him securely. Gotta hold onto the perfect follower!

“Red sun... red sun...” The words have become a comfort to him at this point. He closes his eyes and enjoys the embrace for as long as he can. Why, he can stay like this forever and be happy. Wrapped in the arms he gave his soul to.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this one! I wanna work more with this type of Host eventually... maybe even make this another Host/Eric thing eventually
> 
> Who's to say? Thanks for reading
> 
> Tumblr: LamiasLuck


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